


thought of you often

by jestbee



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Barn Sex, First Time Blow Jobs, Love Confessions, M/M, Middle Ages, Mutual Pining, Noblemen, Period Typical Attitudes, Secret Relationship, in the past, meeting each other again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 19:44:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19979482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jestbee/pseuds/jestbee
Summary: On Daniel's twenty first birthday, a man walks into his banquet hall that he hasn't seen in years.





	thought of you often

It has been a night for revelry. Daniel's belly is full of wine and his head full of good cheer. Despite the glaring looks from his father across the table, the night has been a joyous one. 

His birthday brought about two things every year. A disagreement with his family about his continued resistance to marrying, and so much food that he feels his stomach would burst. He'd taken care of the first earlier in the evening, suffered under a dark brow from his father as Daniel once again told him that he had no intention of joining himself to some woman he did not love, despite the whispers that follow him constantly. 

"There is much sport to be had," Daniel had said in response to his father's question. "I do not have time for a wife."

"There will be much sport even if you should have a wife," his father insisted, "people are beginning to talk. You cannot remain a committed bachelor for your whole life." 

"Why not?" Daniel says, "other men have done before." 

"Other men are not set to inherit my fortune," his father said, "I would like the assurance that our line will continue. An heir. Or do you intend to squander it entirely? You are of age now, it is time for this nonsense to come to an end." 

Daniel is sure the conversation will continue, as it always does. Perhaps it will get worse now that he has reached the age of twenty-one, but he has managed to put an end to it for this evening at least. The celebrations had begun, and they are now surrounded by an empty table, Dan with his legs outstretched and his boots resting on the table in a way that makes his mother look quite scandalised indeed. 

The heavy door to the chamber opens, and a servant enters. 

"My lord Daniel," he says, "a guest has arrived to see you." 

"A guest?" Daniel says, smiling and taking his legs down from the table, "A guest come to see me on my birthday, do let him in, there is room enough for one more." 

The servant bows his head, and exits the room. He returns a few moments later, followed by a familiar face, though not one Daniel has seen in some years.

"Philip!" The room is hushed quiet at the sound of Daniel's loud exclamation. He is taken by shock, a spike of hot, sharp wonder in his pit of his stomach at the sight of his old friend. "You are a sight for sore eyes." 

"Daniel," he says, bowing at the head. 

"Have you no staff? No companions on your travels?" Daniel rises from his seat, legs carrying him across the room without so much as a thought from him to do it. Philip looks well, somewhat older than the last time they had seen each other, but recognisable and lovely as ever. 

They had known each other as boys, and well into their teenage years. They were inseparable, until the age of eighteen. It was at that point that their families had deemed it necessary to separate them, and Philip had moved away from their town, to one much further away. They never told Daniel where. 

Their last night together had been the most emotional, and most confusing time in Daniel's life, and he can't help but think of it now.

"No," Philip says, his eyes following Daniel's movements across the room, "I am alone on my trip."

"It is good to see you," Daniel says, finding that it is true, "What brings you to us?" 

"I am just passing through and thought I would look in on an old friend." 

"That is great news, we are happy to have you!" Daniel's cheeks hurt from smiling, his stomach still feels upset with shock and something undefinable, but the smile on his face is fixed and true. "I was to go on a ride tomorrow, do you have leave to join me?" 

"That could be arranged." 

The invitation feels as natural to him as anything ever did. He had been intending to ride out alone as he does often, to spend time without the entourage of people that follow him constantly, watching his every move, preempting his every want. It gets exhausting.

"I look forward to it," Daniel says. "Now, will you have a drink?"

* * *

Daniel has a lingering doubt that Philip will turn up the next morning. He has no cause to think this, they had spent a happy evening in each other's company, and after Philip had agreed to room in Daniel's house for the duration of his trip. But still, Daniel worries that maybe Philip will have changed his mind, and it makes him more upset than he would ever admit to. 

After about ten minutes of Daniel standing in the courtyard, holding the reins to his own horse, and one fit for Philip to borrow in lieu of using his own that will be tired from his travels, he spots Philip approaching him. 

He breathes a sigh of relief, and raises a hand in greeting. 

"Good morning," he says. 

"Morning," Philip says. 

"Are you ready to go? We have good weather for it." 

Philip cranes his neck upward, looking into the bright sunshine and the pale blue sky. "Yes," he says, "let's hope it holds." 

"I see no reason why it won't." 

Philip takes the reins of his borrowed horse and considers Daniel with an appraising air. He looks at him from boot to hair with a slow drag of his gaze that makes Daniel want to squirm out from under it. 

"Are we going to talk about the weather?" Philip says, "I thought we knew each other better than that." 

"Perhaps," Daniel says, "but that was a long time ago. It might be that I don't know you very well now at all." 

Philip grins and hefts himself up onto the horse, using the stirrup as leverage. "I hope you'll find I am the same person as I always was," Philip says, "I'd hate to think that I might be so changed that you of all people wouldn't recognise me. 

Daniel hides his face by climbing onto his own horse, settling in the saddle. He's forgone the trappings of his more formal garments today, and is pleased to see that Philip has done the same. He prefers to be free of all that when he rides, and a simple linen tunic and riding pants are all he needs. He likes the wind in his hair, against the bare skin of his arms. 

"You may find I have changed," Daniel says, turning his horse in the direction of the gate, "perhaps you won't find your old friend here at all, but someone different." 

"Then I should be pleased to make a new friend," Philip says.

They ride out together for some time. Up into the hills, to the high point that Daniel favours over all else, with a view out over the town. 

"Which direction is it you've come?" Daniel asks, stepping down from his saddle. 

Philip points his finger out over the horizon, "I am about a day's ride that way." 

"A day?" Daniel says. He sits down in the grass, inhaling the scent of the blossom and picking at a strand, running it through his fingers. 

"Hm." 

"You've come far," Daniel says, "what brings you this way?" 

Philip dismounts from his horse and sits down beside him in the grass. He lays down, head pillowed by the thick covering of greenery, closing his eyes against the glare of the sun. The colour of the flora contrasts against his pale skin. He has one hand flat against his breastbone, the other skimming the tops of the grass so that they tickle his palm. 

His hands are large, palms wide, delicate in the way that men's hands are when they haven't seen manual labour. His thumbnail is jagged on the edge where he worries at it, and Daniel remembers that this was always so, even as a child. 

"The view is lovely up here," Philip says. 

"How can you tell?" Daniel laughs, letting go of the fact that Philip has avoided his question. It doesn't matter why Philip is here, only that he is. "You have your eyes closed, like an hour's ride had tired you out." 

Philip flicks his eyes open and narrows them at him. "It was you that kept me up so late," Philip says, "and then insisted on such an early start." 

He doesn't tell Philip that the reason for that is that he simply couldn't bear to be out of his company for too long. It feels both a long time ago, and only yesterday that they last saw each other, So if they only get a short time together then Daniel intends to make the most of it. 

His affection for Philip has not waned, his feelings the same as they ever were. He can admit that to himself, if not yet to Philip. Or anyone else. 

"You should try it," says Philip, closing his eyes once again and settling back into the grass. "It's quite pleasant." 

Daniel does as he suggests and lays back in the grass. He closes his eyes, and tries to relax. 

There is the sound of a bird overhead, the breeze tickles his cheek, and the sun beats down against his skin. The overall effect is calming, so much so that Daniel feels he could fall asleep. 

There is rustling of grass, and there is a soft brush against his pinky. Philip's own finger strokes gently, and then hooks overtop of his. Daniel holds his breath, and he can hear the sound of Philip doing the same.

"Why are you here?" Daniel says.

It interrupts the quiet silence of the day, but Philip's skin is so soft where it's touching his and he wants to know what it is that has brought him here. Why now, why to see him. 

"Please don't ask me that," Philip says, withdrawing his hand. 

Daniel feels the loss of it cut through him, but he doesn't make a move to seek out the touch again. They lay there with their eyes closed for some time, basking in the warmth of the day. Perhaps they sleep, or perhaps they don't, it's hard to tell. But Daniel's heart rate slows, and Philip's breathing is a comforting sound amidst the breeze, and he feels, for the first time in a long time, content with where he is. 

After a while, a cold spot of water lands on Daniel's nose, and he opens his eyes to see a grey cloud gathering in the sky. 

"We should go back," Daniel says, "The weather has turned the way we feared. Besides, I am sure there are other things you had planned for your trip." 

"I didn't," Philip says, "I had no plans but… you're right. We should probably go back, avoid the rain." 

There is something sad about his expression, something grey that falls over their conversation that has nothing to do with inclement weather. 

They heave themselves up from the grass, mount their horses and prepare to set off. Dan looks over to the closed look on Philip's face and grins widely into it.

"Race you back," he says, and then digs his heels into his horse, setting off at top speed. 

"Hey!" Philip shouts after him, and then the sound of hooves fills the air as Philip races to catch up.

* * *

Back at the stables, Dan whoops loudly as he just beats Philip back. Philip had gained on him beautifully, meeting him on the ridge and overtaking him a short amount on the winding road down through the wood. But Dan had the advantage on the flat, and with his own horse, and so he'd sped through the gate and up to the stables a few seconds before him. 

They laugh together, chests heaving with exertion. They are soaked through with rain, patting the necks of their horses and arguing over who had won, whether Dan had cheated by setting off without giving adequate warning. The mood of earlier lifts again, and Philip runs a hand through his hair, his shirt translucent with water.

Daniel dismisses the stablehand and insists he can take care of the kit himself. There is something about spending this time with Philip that he wants to extend, and to continue doing so without an audience.

Once inside, the air is thick with the humid wetness from their clothes, the rain continuing outside. Dan moves about, divesting the horses of their kit and settling them where they should be. He runs a hand through his hair, squeezing rain from his curls to dot against the wooden floor. 

His own tunic is sodden, stuck to the curve of his abdomen, clinging to his back and shoulders. Philip looks at him, sucking his lower lip into his mouth and adopting an expression Dan has not seen for many years. One that puts fear into his heart for what it might mean.

"I thought of you often." Philip's voice cuts through the silence. Bracketed by the sound of the horses in their individual enclosures, snuffling into their feed, breathing heavily through their noses. 

A tail swishes against the side of the wooden wall, a hoof clops against the floor. Daniel hangs his saddle back on the hook and takes a breath of his own. He's facing away from Philip, but he turns back slowly at his words. 

"Phil…" 

"Did I ever tell you how much I like it when you shorten my name?" Philip is leaning against the wall. He has a stray piece of hay trapped in his hair, his cheek windswept. The linen of his shirt hangs in soft, damp waves across his waist and Daniel itches to reach out to him. 

"You shouldn't," Daniel says, "It is too familiar." 

Phil pushes off the wall and stalks towards him. His boots creak on the floorboards, shunting hay and dirt along with them.

"Are we not familiar?" Philip says, right up in his space. Daniel can feel the warmth of his body, hot from the exertion of the ride.

Daniel steps back, dizzy with the proximity. He reaches for Philip's saddle, hanging that up too.

"Why did you return here?" Daniel asks, again. He has to know. "The last I heard of you, you were to be married." 

"I was… I am."

"So, why?" 

"I thought of you often." 

Philip's footsteps approach again, and this time Daniel has nowhere to go but to step back against the wall. Philip steps closer, and something breaks in Daniel's chest, a feeling he's kept locked away. 

"We were young," Daniel says. "It was foolish."

"We were old enough," Philip responds, "It didn't feel foolish. It felt… It felt like nothing else. Did it feel foolish to you?" 

Daniel stares into Philip's eyes, the bluest he has ever seen. They come to him some nights, in dreams. He tosses and turns in his sheets, unable to shift the shade from his mind until he takes himself in hand. It is a shame he's lived with for all these years, but it doesn't feel shameful to have Philip this close once again. 

"No," Daniel says. "It… It doesn't feel foolish." 

Philip's pink lips part and his tongue darts out, swiping along the bottom one. A strand of hair has fallen onto his forehead and Daniel reaches up to swipe it away with the side of his index finger. It is a thoughtless gesture, and he retracts his hand as soon as he comes back himself, meaning to put an end to this, but Philip catches his wrist between his fingers and holds him there. 

"Can I do it again?" Philip whispers. 

Philip's mouth is plush and crooked into a lob-sided smirk that would seem snide on any other mouth but his. Dan finds himself leaning ever so slightly closer, until the warm breath emanating from Phil's lips caresses his cheek. 

"Not here," Daniel whispers. "Come on." 

He tugs at Philip's damp sleeve, drawing him from the stables. He signals to the Hand that the horses are ready to be brushed and tended to. His legs shake as he leads them across the courtyard, not caring a bit for the rain as they slip between two buildings and walk out towards the old storage barn. 

The air is thick and humid inside, warm between the large mounds of hay they keep stored here. It is abandoned for the most part, a place they aren't likely to be discovered. Daniel doesn't say anything, but ascends the ladder to the hayloft, suspended above the main area of the barn, and Philip follows quietly behind him. 

Once up there, Daniel sits down on a soft bed of straw and waits for Philip to sit beside him. 

They are both warm from the summer air, the exercise of their ride, and the building anticipation. Dan's hair is drying at the edges, curls fluffed up and messy. Philip's is a mess, the rain disturbing it was whatever style he'd attempted to keep it in, and now he runs a hand through it to push it back from his forehead. 

His skin is pale, smooth, shining with a mist of rain.

"You brought me back here," Philip says, breaking the silence. 

"Yes…" Daniel says. 

"This is where I left you," Philip says. "This is where you are when I think about you." 

"And you think about me often," Daniel says. 

Philip nods. "All the time. More than is fitting, or sane." He chuckles to himself, a smile hiding in the curve of his mouth. "I can't seem to help it." 

"Nor I," Daniel says. "I… I think about you too."

Philip pushes two fingers against the fabric of Daniel's tunic, over his heart. He drags them upward, gliding over his shirt until they reach the opening at his collar and then, delicately and intentional, they flutter against the hollow of his throat. 

"Dan…" Philip says, and he's right. It is pleasant to hear him shorten his name so. 

"Do it again," Dan says. 

Phil flattens a hand against the side of Dan's neck and draws him in. Phil's mouth presses against Dan's, so lightly at first that Dan thinks that he might be trying to give him the excuse of ignoring it, if that is what Dan wants. 

Dan makes a noise to usher him on, and then presses closer to Phil's body. Phil's hand slides into his hair, and Dan parts his lips, seeking out Phil's tongue with his own. 

Phil gasps. He tastes like rain and a hint of salt, like being eighteen and reckless. The air is full of the scent of their mingled bodies, wet with rain, the fragrant smell of hay. Dan remembers this, and in his chest the same wild, uncontrollable sensation bursts open. 

"Phil," he says, pulling back.

"I missed you," Phil says, "I think of you. I think of this, all the time. Allowing my father to make me leave here was the worst thing I've ever done." 

"You couldn't have stayed," Dan says. 

"Did you want me to?" 

Dan braces himself on one hand, bringing the other up to lay across the hard plane of Phil's chest. His heart beats solidly beneath Dan's fingers, as quick as Dan's own. 

"More than anything," Dan says, "But this scared me. It still scares me." 

Phil nods, and then leans down to press another lingering kiss against Dan's mouth. 

"It scares me too," he says when they part. "But I can't deny how much I want it." 

Dan's fingers tremble. His whole body shakes where he's folded in close to Phil, and Phil plays with the hair at the nape of his neck, making him shiver. 

"I want…" Dan says, "I…" 

"What?" Phil says, "What is it you want, Dan?" 

Dan swallows. Phil is so close that he can see the flecks of yellow in his eyes, the dark fan of his lashes. 

It's always been like this. He's always felt drawn to Phil, from the moment they were children. At first it had been nothing more than the love of friendship, the easy way they understood each other's personalities and complemented each other in temperament. It wasn't until they were older. 

Dan was just eighteen and Phil in his early twenties. He too had the expectation of raising a family, of providing an heir for his own father's fortune, but something had pulled him away from that. Away from his duty and towards Dan. 

Nothing happened, not even when the tension between them felt so thick that it threatened to devour them whole. Not until Phil's father, in deep conversation with Dan's, came to the decision that their friendship was inappropriate, that it was distracting them from their responsibilities. 

On their final day, Dan had sought Phil out and brought him right here. They climbed into the hayloft and discussed how unfair it all was and then, in a heady moment of anguish, while the tears Dan shed for Phil's departure were still fresh on his cheeks, Phil had pulled him close and slotted their mouths together in a deep, hungry kiss. 

They fell to the bed of straw, running hands over each other's skin and kissing in a way that Dan had no experience of, but all the enthusiasm for. 

It had gone no further. They picked themselves up some time later, their lips puffy, jaw aching, and committed themselves to the inevitable fate of losing each other forever. 

A few years later Dan got word that Phil was to be married, and he'd tried not to think about him since. Until, of course, Phil walked into his banquet hall on his twenty first birthday.

"You're married," Dan says. 

"Not yet," Phil replies. 

"I don't understand." 

Phil's other hand cups Dan's jaw. He looks like he wants to kiss Dan again and Dan wants him to, desperately, but he also needs to know. 

"Next week," Phil says, "I'm to be married next week. I put it off for as long as I could because I…" 

"You think about me," Dan finishes when Phil fades off. 

"Yes!" 

Phil surges forward, capturing Dan's mouth again and pushing him backwards so that he is laying in the hay with Phil's body stretched out over him. They fall with a soft collide, knocking the air from their lungs, but they still don't part. Dan runs his palms up across the rise of Phil's shoulder blade and then down into the dip of his waist where his tunic has ridden up, and he comes into contact with soft, warm skin. 

A noise makes its way up out of his throat. It's embarrassingly loud, pathetic and whining. He knows this is wrong, Phil is engaged, the wedding is set. Not to mention that Phil is man, and that beyond all other things, is forbidden. 

But it doesn't feel wrong. He might be selfish, and cruel, to kiss another man's husband, to enjoy it as much as he is, but he feels as if he has been waiting his entire life for this. For Phil. 

There has never been anyone else. 

"I want you," Dan says, between the wet slide of Phil's mouth against his. "I want this." 

Phil's hands slip from Dan's face, and tangles in the hem of Dan's shirt, pulling it up roughly, eager to strip him of it. Dan raises his body just enough for them to pull it free, and then does the same to Phil. Phil presses down again, bringing their hot, bare chests together and Dan moans, unabashedly, into Phil's ear. 

"That sounds—" Phil says, and then makes a noise of his own. 

Phil rearranges his body, just so, and brings their crotches into alignment. Phil is hard and hot through the fabric of his trousers. Dan aches inside his own and when their lengths slip alongside each other Phil gasps the air from Dan's mouth. 

"Ah," Phil exclaims. 

Dan reaches for the laces on Phil's pants. Fingers fumbling as they shake. Phil sits back on his heels and together they manage to untie the fastenings and push them down around his thighs. 

Phil's cock bobs free, thick and long, pink along the shaft and darker towards the tip where it is already shiny and waiting. 

Dan licks his lips and stares. 

"Now you," Phil says, "want to see you." 

"Yes," Dan nods, and they repeat the process on Dan's trousers, struggling with laces and laughing into another deep, lingering kiss. 

Soon, Dan is bared for Phil's eyes to feast upon. Phil doesn't look away, even as Dan shies back, momentarily awkward and embarrassed of how he might look. 

"You're beautiful," Phil says. 

It sounds like the type of thing one would say to a woman, on the face of it, but Phil's expression is earnest and open, and the way he drinks in the sight of Dan's body from head to toe makes him think that he really means it. He's never been called beautiful before, is unlikely to be again after today, but he finds that he likes it. 

Dan groans as Phil reaches out to glide the tips of his fingers along the side of Dan's cock. Dan is breathing heavily, and it catches in his throat as Phil's fingers draw up over the head, running through the moisture gathered there. 

"I want… Can I…" Phil says. 

Dan has no experience with these things, not even with women though there has been ample opportunity, so he's not sure what Phil is asking. 

"Yes," he says anyway, certain that whatever it is, Dan would let him do it. 

Phil's hand curls around Dan's cock and he moves it from base to tip a couple of times. Dan cants his hips upward, pushing into the grip of Phil's hand. 

Then Phil is sliding down his body. Dan spreads his legs a little wider, caring not for how vulnerable it makes him, quieting the small voice in his mind that tells him he is behaving as a woman would. 

Phil's kisses continue, and Dan has no idea of his intentions.

"What do you mean to do?" Dan asks, half scared of what the answer might be.

"I have heard… the woman in my town, they have learned things from the French."

"The French?" 

Phil's mouth quirks into a smile, his chin resting on the soft flesh of Dan's lower abdomen. His body is hot over the sensitive skin of Dan's cock and Dan is impatient for what happens next, even while his stomach rolls with nerves.

"Do you always talk of such things with women, like a common gossip?" Dan teases.

Phil blushes, his cheeks turning pink. "I sometimes find it much simpler to talk with women, they are not so… they expect less from me. I can't be held responsible for the things they talk about."

Dan knows what it means to feel like you cannot match up to men. To hide the way you look at them, to avoid thinking about it as much as possible for fear of revealing too much. However, Dan has much avoided women as well, for fear of being unable to produce the kind of sentiment they would expect.

It would be much simpler to expect nothing from either sex, to do away with the concept entirely so that Dan would be free to do as he pleases without feeling like he is failing to fulfil some sort of… societal expectation.

But they are all thoughts for another day. Not for when Phil is kneeling between his legs, waiting but eager.

"Well," Dan says, matching Phil's smirk with one of his own, "I'm not sure of the calibre of the women you are talking with, but I can't pretend I'm not excited about something so…" and here he pauses, hot all over from admitting what it is he wants. "French."

As Phil takes his cock in his mouth, concerns about any of that don't matter at all. Man, woman, boy, girl, something formless that is none of those things at all, nothing matters except for Phil's tongue flicking against the end of his cock and Phil hollowing his cheeks when he sinks down as far as he can go. 

Dan lets out a full-bodied groan, the sound escaping into the creaking rafters above them. He can feel Phil's smile around the length of his cock and his hips rock unbidden into the wet heat of it. 

"Shit," Dan says. The swear tumbles from his lips, followed by "Phil," which sounds like a prayer even to his unbelieving ears. 

Is this a natural skill Phil possesses, or has he had practise with this somehow? It leaves a sour taste in Dan's mouth to think of Phil doing this to someone else, making someone else feel as tightly wound and trembling as he is now. And so he doesn't. 

He throws his head back into the soft pile of straw, the odd strand poking into the flesh of his scalp. His whole body feels tense and hot, shuddering through each sensation as Phil's mouth works him over. 

There are noises falling from Dan's lips that he didn't know he was capable of making.  
High, wild sounds that give away the very depths of his feeling for Phil. The ones he's been denying even to himself. 

"Please," Dan says, begging for something he can't define. 

Phil gives it to him away.

The soft inside of Phil's cheeks, the delicate flick and curl of his tongue, the unrelenting suction he provides at just the moment Dan thinks he'll die if he doesn't feel it, all of this combines so that soon he is scrambling at Phil's hair, pushing fingers into it in warning. 

Phil doesn't pull away. He uses his mouth to work Dan through his release, shuddering and gasping into the humid air of the barn. The heavens are still open outside, and Dan feels laid bare in more ways than just physical as Phil laps at him, swallowing him down and softly, softly, sliding his spent cock from between his swollen lips. 

Dan desperately wants to return the favour. He wants to know what Phil's tastes like and yet, his body is unresponsive, loose and heavy from the energetic way he had come. 

It's never been like that, even when Dan has touched himself with practised fingers, knowing all the nuances of things he likes, it has never been like this. 

"Can I— Phil says, moving up Dan's body and pressing them together again. 

His cock slides along the hot, sweaty crevice where Dan's thigh meets his hip. 

"Yes," Dan says, clinging to the bend of Phil's shoulders as if he might leave at any moment. 

"Just want to—" Phil says, and his hips move, thrusting so that the wet head of Phil's cock slides along his skin, leaving a sticky trail in its wake. 

Dan doesn't mind. In fact, he has never felt happier to be smeared, dirtied and marked. He wishes he could carry it with him for the rest of his days, a small sliver of Phil forever on his skin. Something to keep once this day is over, once Phil is gone back to the wife he doesn't want, and Dan is alone once again in a world that will never accept him. 

A choked, sobbing sound escapes Dan's throat and he clings harder to Phil's body, presses his face into the cavern of his neck and breathes against his skin. 

Phil moves against him, his hips fluid and what starts as a stuttering slide of his cock again Dan's body, gets wetter and slippier, and so Phil's cock is moving fluidly and Phil's whole body is tensing under Dan's hands. 

"Dan," Phil gasps, mouth bumping the line of his jaw, tongue swiping, and his orgasm spills onto the skin of Dan's hip, hot and pulsing. 

"Oh," Dan says, nonsensically. 

The way Phil unravels against him, the vulnerable way he screws his eyes shut and gives himself over is nothing like anything Dan has ever experienced. He wants to hold it close, to save it all for himself in the darkest and lightest of moments. 

Phil pants into the skin below Dan's ear and Dan runs a hand down the bumps of his spine. 

"Stay," Dan says. 

Phil is no further away than he has been since they entered the barn, and yet Dan fears his absence even before it has started. 

Phil lifts his head and fixes him with such a look that Dan wants to cower beneath it. It is filled with everything they aren't saying, all the unspoken things they aren't allowed to say, have been brought up not to mention. 

They pressed together, naked and sticky, bared as naked as the day they were born, and yet they aren't supposed to say the things they keep hidden. 

"Stay," Dan repeats.

"You know that I can't." 

Dan chews at his bottom lip. Phil rolls away, but not too far, still touching Dan all down one side, laying next to him in the straw. 

"Then let's leave," Dan says. 

Phil's breath punches out of him. His eyes are manic and wide, and Dan turns to meet his gaze. Their faces are close, so close that Dan need only lean a short space and they would be kissing. 

He wants to, the desire to claim Phil's mouth, to rut against each other for a second time and forget all of this is strong. He could give into it, could cave to the pull behind his ribs, but there is also the twisted thing in his chest, a lump in his throat so tangled with emotion that threatens to leap out at any moment. 

"You can't," Phil says. 

"I don't care about this place," Dan says. "Not when… My parents will never want anything from me that I can give. I am not their dutiful heir. Let their eldest disappear, and my brother can give them the legacy they desire. He wants it more than I do." 

"And what do you want?" Phil says. 

Dan sighs, softly, and his teeth meet his bottom lip again. "If that isn't obvious by now, I don't know what to tell you." 

Phil's cheeks are already pink with exertion, but Dan suspects there is a deeper flush of it at his words. 

"I can't," Phil says, his expression twisted like it pains him physically.

Dan lifts a hand and skims the backs of his knuckles against Phil's cheek. Phil's eyes flutter shut, and his head turns into the touch, brushing his lips briefly across Dan's skin. 

"You already left," Dan says. "You're here." 

"Where would we go?" 

Dan shakes his head, resting his fingers on Phil's neck, his pulse fluttering. "I don't know," he confesses. "Somewhere… anywhere. Does it matter? We don't have to be the people we are somewhere else. We can just be…" 

"What?" Phil asks, helplessly. "What will we be, Dan? Where would accept us like this?" 

Dan takes in the sight of them. Phil is right, they can't be like this anywhere. There is no place for them. But he has to think that there is somewhere better than this. 

"We live as confirmed bachelors then," Dan says, "Or as widowers, mourning the loss of good, dutiful wives until the end of our days. I can gather enough gold for us to live comfortably, as surely you can. It's no one's business. We can live quietly. I could want for nothing more than that if you were… Their acceptance doesn't matter to me."

Phil lifts himself up onto his elbows. His hair is a mess, damp and pressed into waves with the path of Dan's fingers. 

"I—" Phil says. 

"It doesn't matter," Dan says again. "You thought about me. Often. And I of you. Is that just to stop now?" 

Phil doesn't answer. His eyes blink shut for a moment, dark lashes fanned against his cheeks. Dan lifts himself up to sitting, looking down at Phil, taking in the sight of him, naked and dishevelled. He never wants to look at anything else for the rest of his life. 

"It won't for me," Dan says, because now is one of those moments where you have to say everything you intend, or forever regret it. "It never has." 

"No," Phil agrees, voice soft like a confession, even though they have admitted to much more damning things, have done much more damning things. "It won't stop." 

"Then let us leave," Dan says. "Now, today." 

Phil opens his mouth to protest and Dan presses his fingers against it. His fingertip glances against the wet inside of Phil's bottom lip, but he doesn't move. 

"Don't," Dan says. 

"I was only going to say that we can't go now," Phil says, capturing Dan's hand and pressing a kiss against his palm. "We have to wait. Until dark, until we won't be spotted." 

Dan doesn't fight the smile that breaks on his face, and he throws himself overtop of Phil, joining their mouths into a deep, hungry kiss. 

"God," Dan says, after they kiss for a while, hands wandering. "God, we're… we're doing it." 

"Yes," Phil answers, wholeheartedly, voice elevated with the kind of glee Dan can feel right in his stomach. 

They lay there for a while yet, touching and kissing. And at some point they work each other up enough that Dan gets a chance to return the favour of taking Phil in his mouth. 

He is hot and hard against his tongue, and the fullness of it, the way his lips stretch to accommodate him, sends Dan's head swimming and fuzzy. He's never felt that kind of peace, the rightness that comes from taking Phil apart piece by piece. 

When it's over, Phil's wraps a large shaking hand around his cock and it is over for Dan in mere seconds. Just the act of sucking Phil down was enough to bring him very near the edge. 

It's still never been like that before. 

"We should go," Phil says, after. He's kissing Dan again, completely contradictory to his urging. "We need to…" 

Dan laughs, high and carefree and so, so happy. "Yes," he says, "I need to gather my things. And someone will notice that we're…" 

"Go," Phil says, pulling away from him reluctantly. "After tonight we'll have all the time in the world." 

Dan can't help chasing down one final kiss, before they finally draw up enough strength and self restraint to dress. They disengage at the door, walking with a space between them that feels wrong, somehow. Dan feels every inch of empty space and wants to close the gap almost instantly. 

"Meet me back here," he says. "Once night has fallen. Midnight." 

"What if someone sees?" Phil asks. 

"Tell them you are going on one of Daniel's strange night time wanderings," Dan says, "it won't be the first time." 

Phil cocks his head at Dan, and adopts an expression that Dan is coming to know as one that means he wants to kiss Dan. Dan feels much the same. 

"You are... " Phil says, "every bit as strange and… wonderful as I remember." 

The muscles in Dan's cheeks hurt from the smile he has been wearing constantly, from the way it tugs at him a little more as Phil says that. 

"Midnight," he says again, "right here. I'll have the horses waiting." 

Phil nods, glances around them to check that they are not being overlooked, and then reaches out to touch the back of Dan's hand lightly, with just the tips of his index and middle fingers. 

"I'll be here," he says. 

Then Phil is walking away from him. It hurts Dan, at first, but he doesn't miss the lightness in Phil's steps. The way he looks back over his shoulder just before disappearing around the side of the stables. 

It is painful to watch him go, but Dan knows that there are only a few hours he will ever be separated from him again. He intends that he will never again feel the kind of loss he felt at eighteen, never again will he allow the expectations of others to tear him from what he knows in his heart is right. 

Phil thinks of him. And he thinks of Phil. And from now on, they will no longer only exist in their thoughts.

A few hours. Enough time to gather his things, to pack them up, to curate what funds he can to give them a fresh start. Somewhere far away, somewhere that neither of them know. 

Just a few more hours, and it can all finally begin.

**Author's Note:**

> [reblog on tumblr?](https://jestbee.tumblr.com/post/186545334097/thought-of-you-often)


End file.
